Shot Down
by Kyle Palmer
Summary: This is a story I am writing as tribute to the soldiers who were discriminated agains't for being who they truely were. I will add more chapters as fast as I can, read up!


Silence Follows Death

The shot came, my worst fears were realized as soon as I heard that bullet break the sound barrier and create a disturbance in peace. Birds flew in the air to scurry away from the ravaging attempt at assault made by the Iraqi soldiers that were shooting at us. Chris just couldn't keep his head down, I have no clue why, but due to his actions they spotted us, just as we were five miles away from the home of Iraq, Bagdad. Words of rage and aggravation swam in my head for Chris right now, he blew our cover. It said clearly on the radio to get down, it explained thoroughly that there was going to be a band of Iraqi troops coming through this road. He just stood, his face didn't even show a sign of recollection knowing how to respond to the message, and I wonder if he had ever gotten the message in the first place? I can't see why not? I couldn't fully tell at the moment what had been wrong with Chris, or why he didn't respond, our convoy was placed on the opposite ends of the main road leading out of Bagdad. The sound of automatic rifles ringed in my ears; this was now a war zone. I was on one side while on the other side was Chris lying on the ground; I knew something was wrong but I couldn't see far enough to tell. It wouldn't make sense for him to just now get to cover on the ground after shots fired. Unless, he must have gotten shot, I cringed at the thought of Chris getting shot.

I couldn't sit back any longer and I ran into the dead zone, it was the area in the street with absolutely no cover. Nobody ever entered it, not unless you had suicidal tendencies of wanting a bullet to the head. I wasn't suicidal, I was in love with the very thing I was always taught to dislike as a soul mate, a man. I didn't care anymore; this world was already full with enough intolerant ignorant people, why add to the insecure population that rather dislike and torture those who decide to be true to themselves than do anything with their own life. It sickened me to think I was around those people all my life, how I carelessly not noticed them. I guess it was true, ignorance is bliss. I had been awakening to a world of hate and neglect, not knowing the outcome. Life had been a fog to me up to this point; I had always been in the race to achieve the status quo. Where did I get, nowhere. Impressing people left and right in regards to agreeing with their hatred towards different factions. It didn't matter which faction it was, any one group that wasn't white, and wasn't heterosexual.

I was living the good life too, but at what cost. I fitting in had no cost to me at all, I just stood around and made jokes about those less fortunate than me, those that aren't 'perfect'. That's what it took to fit in those days, those times. Nothings free in this world either, the cost was hatred in the hearts of men and women alike, hatred for being themselves, for being what's always been there reason for living, what been them. It was haze, the life I lived before Chris had stolen my eyes to see a different purpose on earth. He opened my perspectives to see the truth.

"Grenade!" The man next to me shouted, his shouting was hardly heard over the intense fire of the Gatling gun. I was done day dreaming, I grabbed the grenade sitting right next to me about to explode and tossed it back a hard as I could. I was so caught up in the emotions I forgot my objective; I had to sprint through a hail fire of bullets to tend to Chris, still on the ground. I ran as hard as I could trying to make it, I felt something like a bug biting at my side but other than that I was past the road onto the side where Chris resided. I search frantically at a couple of bodies on the ground of dead comrades', I could barely call them comrades' after all they have done to mine and Chris's life. Their life lost was the ultimate consequence to the constant agony that had pursued into our hearts. I searched even more and found Chris.

He was hurt, it was the worst thing to see, your soul mate hurt. I raised his head and placed my backpack underneath his neck for support. He had been shot by a sniper right in the gut, I examined the wound, and it was deep, most likely it had punctured his small intestine. I could feel his pain when I looked into his eyes as he looked into mine, the he pointed to my hip. I was bleeding through my shirt, at that moment of realism I knew now that the bug bite I had previously felt was nothing less than a bullet, it must have been my subconscious lying to me so I wouldn't forget the main reason I got shot for, to protect him.

"Anthony, your bleeding, go get help." Chris said with a raspy voice and chapped lips, I could tell he was leaving me slowly and I didn't want to leave him. I took off my canister and poured a good amount of water into his mouth, he swallowed.

"I said go Anthony, there no sense in getting us both killed." He said again more sternly. I slowly moved my hand through his silky brunette hair and looked into his blue eyes, and then I kissed him.

"I'm shot too; I'm not going to leave you." I said with reassurance, he looked at me with so much sorrow; I had a hard time looking at him. I saw this same look of sorrow before, not only in Chris's face but in the fog of my dark past. I hadn't remembered a whole lot easily from my past, most of the reason is I tried to block it out the best that I could. It was back in my past when all that mattered was stay cool, fitting in, being something the zeitgeist called for, and not something of your own personality. I was so easily subdued to that life style, it made me sick; I could only render bits and pieces but there were strong, strong enough to know this world would be way better off if those who caused torment should be ended.

My memories brought me back to my past life style, around my eighth grade year, god those were the good days; ignorance never looked so well nor did its consequences. I was hanging out with my buddy Jacob, I have known Jacob my whole life, or at least since the third grade, we had spent a lot of time together. As did our parents, his father Rick was very influential on my family as well as mine own father. He was a rough tough mechanic whose ideals were that of more of a conservative outlook, he was stern and mostly a pessimist. For the most part, he hated two things in the world the most, the homosexual community, and the black community. If you ask me why, I won't give you an answer because I simply don't know, Jacob said his grandfather was the same way, I guess the apple doesn't fall fare from the tree. Anyhow, what knowledge was given to Jacob's dad was eventually given to Jacob, and then me.

Jacob and I were quite the team back then too. We were always competing for the better grades, always out doing ourselves in sports to catch the eyes of the girls around us. Girls at that time in our lives were merely in the effort for a competition basis, a check in the box of a list on becoming a man. We knew the morals and concepts of sex, but no kid at that age dared to try anything dastardly. Then there was Marcus, he was a small black boy about our age, maybe a couple months older. Marcus possessed both attributes that me and Jacob had been taught was wrong in our righteous minds, he was black, and he was made out to be gay, no one knew for certain if he was, but the mannerisms and attitudes he possessed spoke for him.

Jacob and I teased Marcus too much; it was almost to the point that the poor kid had to leave the class room everyday for a couple minutes to sulk in cry in the bathroom. Jacob and I were on top of the food chain though, but at what cost, a defenseless child gets constantly harassed to no end. It had been a couple months into the school year, in the dead of winter. If you know winter in Chicago, you know that it was freezing and no one dared going outside unless you really needed too. Marcus had sat next to me and Jacob, poor kid, it had to be the worst spot in the school, considering half the crap Jacob and I steered up. I remember that day like it was yesterday all over again, Jacob had just learned a new word from his ignorant dad. He told me this new world that morning, but informed me never to use it because it was horrible; it was the word 'fagot'. I took his word for it but I knew he wouldn't practice what he preached and use it anyways. It was the start of any other day, same old Jacob bullshit; he had gotten a new backpack. Not just any backpack, this one was to die for and only few else had one in the whole school, he was proud of it. It had many pockets and a socket to hold drinks, I was superbly jealous. I was surprised that he could even afford it in the first place.

We had walked into math, the class Marcus had sat next to us in. We took our presumed seats as Jacob slowly took off his backpack in a showy manner and set it on the floor. Marcus was late as usual, he had normally come in crying, and all I could think of him was, pansy. He was later than usual that day, but none of us cared. He finally entered and had snow all over him; he was slipping on account of the water all over the tile floor. He started to walk towards his seat the resumed its place in front of Jacob's. Marcus walked cautiously down the aisle and fell, he feel so suddenly that we could all hear a large rip and the thud of Marcus's body hitting the floor with full force. Knowing the smash on the ground was the inept Marcus. What had been the rip? It could of well have been the cloths he had been wearing, we search his pants in an effort to discover he had torn them, but there were no rips. Jacob stands up and kicked Marcus hard in the gut.

"You ripped my new backpack you fagot!" We all looked at Jacob's new bag he had been flaunting and it was ripped, right down the middle with all his papers and homework seeping out of the split ends.

"Why don't you just go home and kill yourself, and save us the trouble you nigger!" Jacob shouted, I hadn't known what the last word he had said was at that age but I knew it wasn't good. Considering it was what his dad used when he was referring to blacks. I rose up and pressured Jacob's shoulders to have him sit down and he did.

"Just calm down Jacob, he didn't mean it." I stated, Jacob was still royally pissed but I knew he would get over it in a matter of days. I looked over to see what had happened to Marcus and he wasn't there, no one knew where he had gone off to, nor did they care. I resumed my seat and the class began, it was inching towards the end of class but I could not hold on any longer.

"Excuse me, could I use the rest room?" I asked politely to suck to my teacher, she obliged. I swiftly maneuvered myself out of the steamy and boisterous atmosphere of the class room. When I exited I didn't have to go as much, I guess half of me just wanted to be alone outside for a minute. I walked toward the bathroom all the way on the other side of the quad, the snow was knee high and freezing so I rushed my paces. As I got into the bathroom I heard whimpering, I knew it was Marcus of course, but I paid no attention. I choose a urinal and began my business. As I was standing there, I realized something considerably significant, my toes were really starting to warm up. There was no reason why, just lost into the moment, I looked down to fasten my belt when I spotted something, the ground was all red when it had not been before, and the origin was coming from one of the stalls.

I walked over the stall the flow had been starting from and slowly opened the door, this event was forever locked into my mind, and I couldn't comprehend it at first. I shut my eyes and then opened them again. It had been Marcus; his back was leaning against the toilet sitting on the ground, his left arm had been ripped wide open to where you could see his veins leaking blood. In the right hand was a knife, about five inches long with blood all over. I looked at his ever longing pained face. He was about to give up life, it reminded me about the ballet swan lake. The white swan finally found peace out of death.

"Marcus, what did you do?" I looked at him with a pale face that was whiter than the snow attached to my leg. His face was even whiter. Then he looked at me with a grin on his face.

"I'm doing what's best for everyone." He stated, I saw the moisture in his breathe lead the way out for the last exhale he will ever endure for the rest of his life. I walked away slowly, and I started to run, I ran harder than I had ever before in my life, I looked back towards the bathrooms when I got half way through the campus, I saw the blood stains in each step I took in the snow. My vision started to become blurry from the tears that consumed my face. I couldn't see where I had been going and tripped. I got up with sheets of snow all over my body and face and entered the class were, my eyes tearing up like the sky on Independence Day. My teacher ran to me, yelling at me to what was the problem. I told her was I had seen; her face had grown white as mine did seeing this with mine own eyes, and mine alone.

It's safe to say that I had to go home early that day, due to extreme dramatization of what had occurred. I met my parents at the office; we entered the councilor's office. My councilor started off.

"Now Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I would like to take your son out of some classes to evaluate him, in case of permanent dramatization." He noted soundly.

"No, that's fine, a good night's rest will do, he stronger than the average kid." My father retorted. He always thought of me as his little grown man, but I wasn't. I was a small child that just saw the death of his fellow student. I wasn't even a fellow, and I had only myself to blame, I could have done more to help.

"You need to seriously suggest this, this doesn't happen a lot, but when it does, some lives are ruined." He stated back. I could tell my father was getting pissed at what my councilor was saying; my father was ignorant like Jacob's, I wonder where he got it. Monkey see, monkey do.

"I said no! May I seriously suggest you stop letting in gay niggers into public schools if all there going to do is make our lives a living hell!" We left that school and that the rest I remember of that day in eighth grade. I was mostly in shell shock for the rest of the year, I eventually moved on but kept to myself, I stopped hanging out with Jacob. I was through with having those self-conscious feelings and regret in my heart. I couldn't bear to even look at myself in the mirror the years following nor could I enter that bath room. My life was in shambles, as I resented my father for the longest time. It was funny how a kid like me knew when to stay away from a bad influence when I saw one, but my dad. He was something else for the books, so ignorant, and most of all, so intolerant. Everybody was ignorant in that situation and still are, not the teachers nor the students, not even Marcus's friends could have ever known this much, he was being beating every night and day. It fit into the reasoning as to why he was always late and the last one to leave school; he didn't want to go home. I had the same feelings when I fell, fell for the very thing I was born up hating, and eventually killed. I heard a loud scream and busted back into reality. Chris had been throbbing in pain, and I started to release pressure from his side and replace my hand holding the tissues with his arm. He looked at me again.

"You need to go, I'm a goner, I'm going to get you killed, you hear me!" He shouted, there was still bullets flying in the air past us, we were so low that they wouldn't have hit us, but it was still an adrenaline endorsing thought. I kissed him again smoothly on the lips again and stared at him in the eyes.

"I'm not leaving."


End file.
